06 January 2009

Poop.

The theme of the day, now that I think about it, was poop. (Aren't you relieved there aren't any pictures with this post?!) This morning it was expressed with two "poopy" attitudes, mine and my daughter's. I broke my no-yelling resolution six days into the new year. We actually made it to girl scouts, though. Then the cold day became bearable and we decided to join our friends on the playground. Apparently a dog had been there shortly before us. Mia found the present he left under the play equipment and wondered "what it was", so she stuck her boot in it. (Mind you, we own a dog. A very big dog who leaves plenty of specimens in our back yard. But there must have been something particularly irresistible about this one.) A little while later, Mia's friend runs over and says, "Your daughter smells stinky." I think nothing of it! I mean, what else is new? By the time I'd discovered her stink for myself, it had been mysteriously transferred to her hands, shirt, and pants, as well as to her friend's sleeve. I don't even wanna know. After much boot scraping, wet paper toweling, and mommy sighing (but not yelling!), we got into the car thinking we'd taken care of the situation. Five minutes later, we were pulling into Target to buy new clothes and shoes. A little poop goes a long way when you're trapped in a car, and we were an hour from home. On the way out of there, Mia goes, "So when I want new shiny silver shoes, I should step in dog poop, right?" No! Apparently six year olds like to test their already exasperated mamas. The day turned up from there, until I get a text from my husband...."don't forget the two poops". Nuh-uh! You see, he runs the dog (MY dog, he would specify) every morning, and he doesn't like carrying the poop bags all around the neighborhood, so he scoops it and then dumps it behind various community shrubberies. Take that, HOA! So it's then my job to hunt them down and dispose of them. Because, really, the HOA would not like that at all and we aren't bad people...however poopy our days may turn out to be.

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